


enjoy the moment (forget the memory)

by goreds



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: F/M, if you're looking for porn you won't find it here, lots of drinking as the two mains are wont to do, minor character canon death referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22568224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goreds/pseuds/goreds
Summary: Chrisjen Avasarala and Sadavir Errinwright spent a night together years ago. Years later, Chrisjen will be damned if she can remember it.
Relationships: Chrisjen Avasarala/Sadavir Errinwright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	enjoy the moment (forget the memory)

“Oh, this is gonna be one of those nights again, I can just feel it.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“You don’t remember, do you? Any of it?”

_Remember what?!_ Chrisjen Avasarala furrows her brow. She finds herself shaking her head--maybe her memory is going; she is pushing 70.

“'When are we going to make it?’ Well, we made it, and then you forgot, but I fucking didn’t. I couldn’t.” And with that, Sadavir Errinwright downs what remains of his whiskey, slams the glass down on Chrisjen’s desk and leaves without so much as another word.

Chrisjen sits back in her chair. “'When are we going to make it?'” she repeats to herself.

She has something resembling a memory of the two of them in her old, smaller office, drinking too much after a long day at work. Maybe it was after Charanpal died, and she wasn’t with Arjun for a period. But they’ve drunk after hours in her office or his a lot over the years.

* * *

Chrisjen motions at Sadavir to have a drink of his own. The young man looks a little cautious; should he really be drinking with the boss?

“Oh, come on,” she says, “It’s good for the blood pressure.”

“Really?”

“No, Sadavir, I made that the fuck up.” The young man still looks nervous, but he pours himself a glass.

Maybe this’ll loosen him up, Chrisjen thinks to herself with a smirk.

* * *

That was one time, when Charanpal was still a child, and Arjun was still going after tenure, and Sadavir was young and full of stupid ideas and awkward as all hell. But they certainly didn’t do anything improper. Sadavir didn’t even let himself get tipsy. (Chrisjen, on the other hand...)

So, what the fuck was Sadavir referencing? Clearly, he’s saying they did...something, but Chrisjen will be damned if she can remember. He’s getting old, and she’s older, and maybe it’s just a trick of memory.

But Sadavir’s not senile. (Not yet.) And Chrisjen’s memory isn’t failing her. She just...doesn’t want to remember?

Chrisjen doesn’t feel shame easily, but Sadavir also doesn’t lie about personal matters. (Professional matters, on the other hand...) She was the first person he told about his divorce from Jodie, only five years into their marriage. (Chrisjen knew it wouldn’t last because Sadavir was never the marrying type, too much of a romantic.) Jodie left him alone with Jefferson, and the divorce was handled remotely. Chrisjen knows Sadavir’s still in love with Jodie, but then again, he’s still in love with Chrisjen, _too_.

Oh. Where did _that_ thought come from?

But he is in love with her. Has been since he was a kid and she was only slightly younger. It’s all over his puppy dog face. (Chrisjen is aware most people who work at the UN would describe him as vaguely reptilian, these days. She’s known him longer than most of those people were alive, though.) But...did they do it? Make it, was how he phrased it.

Fuck. Maybe they did.

* * *

“Why do you look like we’re going to a funeral?” Arjun is cheerful. Too cheerful.

“Sadavir Errinwright is getting married. It’s the death of good sense,” Chrisjen sniffs.

“He’s allowed to get married. You’re just jealous,” Arjun chuckles, good-naturedly. Too good-naturedly.

“He just met this girl. Jodie whatever. She’s some uppity socialite from California. He’s too serious for her. She’ll leave him within the decade--”

“Don’t say that! Not on the day of their wedding, my dear.”

“Am I saying it to his fucking face? No. I’ll be on my best behavior, dear.”

The ceremony is perfectly lovely. Chrisjen has to admit that. Jodie is glowing. Of course she is. She got quite the catch. Sadavir looks fine. Nervous. He’s looked better. At the reception, once the dancing starts, Arjun tries to distract her from feeling miserable by forcing her to dance. Arjun is a good dancer, but she’s still miserable. She is jealous, like Arjun said. Arjun, though, thinks she’s jealous because this Jodie person is waltzing away with one of her most dependable aides. No, Sadavir’s due a promotion, and he won’t be her aide much longer.

No, this jealousy is more insidious, and Chrisjen knows it.

Chrisjen’s far away from dancing at this point, lost in her own head, and she steps on Arjun’s foot, hard, completely by accident. He exclaims in pain, and on autopilot, she takes him over to their table and leaves him there, to nurse his foot. She’s a goddamned terrible dancer, Arjun knows that. Stupid man.

Who was, admittedly, just trying to cheer her up.

Chrisjen goes over to the bar to get another drink, before heading over to a window to sulk at the skyline of New York in front of her.

And like a moth to a flame, he comes to her. “You’re usually a better dancer. Poor Arjun.”

Chrisjen stares at Sadavir’s reflection in the glass. She has the temptation to throw her drink at him. But that would be a waste of good alcohol. “Shouldn’t you be tending to your blushing bride?”

“Jodie’s changing. We’re about to leave.”

“Have fun.” Chrisjen is well aware it sounds more like she just said “please go die.”

“Are you alright, Chrisjen?” His voice is surprisingly tender considering she’s a cranky old lady spoiling his wedding.

“I’m fine, Sadavir. Really. Just a damn headache.”

“Okay,” he says. He knows she’s lying, but he’s clearly not going to press further. “Thank you for coming,” he smiles.

Chrisjen just hums in response.

* * *

Sadavir and Jodie had announced that Jefferson was going to be born a few months later. Chrisjen was happy for them, she thinks, because nothing unites a couple like children.

Nothing divides a couple like children, either. Her surviving child was starting to have grandchildren around the time Jefferson was born, and Chrisjen showered them with attention, because of course she did. Showered them with attention like she never did with Charanpal. But he was the heir to a long political dynasty, and he had to pull his weight. Like she was some goddamned queen. And he was the prince. And then he died, and part of her died with him.

Part of her marriage died too. Oh, she and Arjun had stayed together, despite it all, but they separated for a time, and that’s when she...that’s when she and Sadavir...they.

No.

* * *

Chrisjen’s too drunk. Already, and she knows it. To be fair, she’s been drinking throughout the day, letting the alcohol consume what deadened emotions she has left.

Sadavir’s been watching her with concern, at different meetings, different functions. He even steadied her when she nearly lost her footing on those blasted stairs earlier.

She calls Arjun, but he doesn’t pick up. So, she pours herself another few fingers of whiskey.

Arjun left her shortly after Charanpal’s death. He blames her for pushing their son too hard. He said as much.

It’s not permanent. Chrisjen knows it isn’t, that Arjun will come back to her eventually, but she knows they will be forever changed.

“Hello?” Sadavir knocks on her office door, poking his head in. “You good for the night?”

“I’ll be fine,” and she tries desperately not to slur her words.

Sadavir, tall and lean, comes into the office fully. “That...doesn’t sound like you’re actually fine.”

Chrisjen wants to throw her tumbler at him, scream at him to get out and collapse into her chair sobbing, but she also doesn’t want to do that.

Part of her wants to make his pleasant demeanor evaporate, make him hers and leave him wanting at the end.

“Have a drink, Sadavir,” is all she says.

He just nods, gracefully crossing the room, pouring himself a tiny glass of whiskey.

“That’s not enough.” She huskily laughs. Fuck. She is drunk.

“I’m trying to cut back.”

“Why? Got a wife hidden away who’s concerned?”

“No. Not yet.” He smiles sheepishly, as if she didn’t know he had no one in his life. No one real.

“Not yet? Are you actively looking?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Know anyone?” He says this affably, but there’s a hardness behind it too.

An unspoken something. As if he’s been waiting for her to...to...

No, she’s too drunk to think about it.

“I do not. I know no one who would be willing to put up with your hours. You’re here too early and you stay too late, Sadavir.”

“And who’s fault is that, ma’am?”

“It’s yours.” Her mood is souring, and maybe he can sense it. She doesn’t know.

“Did I say something to--”

“I was already upset. You’re not making it worse, or any better.”

“I would like to make it better. If possible.”

“I’m not sure how. Unless you want to tell my husband to come back,” she says, and hearing those words out loud just makes her feel weak.

“Arjun left?”

“Oh, come on, like you didn’t know. Everyone knows.”

Sadavir straightens his posture even more than usual and pours another glass of whiskey. “We were trying to be discreet.”

“Oh, fuck niceties. Yes, my husband and I are taking a break.”

“I’m sorry,” and she can tell he’s being honest. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

“No. You can’t,” she spits at him.

“Maybe I should go.”

No, he can’t. He shouldn’t. She needs to be nicer to Sadavir. Chrisjen knows this. “No. Stay. Just a little longer.”

Sadavir just nods, sitting down across from her.

Chrisjen wants to make small talk, but she’ll admit she doesn’t know how. So she decides to flirt. She does know how to do that. “So, you’re looking for a girl, huh?”

“I’m always looking.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know if you were looking.”

“I’m a young man, ma’am--”

“Oh, please call me Chrisjen. We can drop the fucking formalities for one night. Besides, you’ll probably be my boss someday.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. You’re better at this than I am. Politicking, I mean. And besides, you have the ear of Esteban. And we all know he’ll be Sec-Gen someday.”

“Do we all know that?”

“He’s a fucking bobblehead. He’ll be the top man someday. And you’ll be the puppet master, I have no doubt.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that.” Sadavir looks uncomfortable, but she can tell that part of him is fascinated by her fortune-telling.

“You do. Just like you like knowing you’ll be on top some day.” Shit. Why did she have to say it like that? She tries to laugh it away.

“Oh, I think we all know you’ll always be on top, ma’--Chrisjen.” And his blue eyes twinkle nearly imperceptibly, but Chrisjen sees it. Her dark brown eyes flash back at him.

They’re both losing control, whether due to the alcohol or something else between them. Chrisjen knows she has to stop. But she’s having too much fun. “Well, regardless of who is on top, it sounds like we’ll be enjoying ourselves.”

Sadavir chuckles nervously and goes to pour himself another glass of whiskey.

* * *

Chrisjen’s remembering is interrupted by Sadavir, clearly still disgruntled, coming back into her office. “Forget something?”

But no, Sadavir hasn’t forgotten anything. His suit jacket is off, and he might have been drinking more. He comes around to her side of the desk, letting himself tower over her. She always liked how tall he was. _What the fuck are we doing?_

Sadavir answers by leaning down and kissing her not on the lips, but on the cheek. Chrisjen can smell the alcohol on his breath, but he can probably smell the alcohol on hers, too. “I think I remember,” she says, a little hoarsely.

“Good,” and he grabs her by the shoulders and properly kisses her, like they’re in some silly romance novel. Not that Chrisjen has ever read a romance novel. She just assumes.

But if this is a romance novel, she has to admit she doesn’t mind it.

* * *

They’re both drunk now, with Sadavir giggling at something foul Chrisjen has said, and she has to admit it, it delights her to no end to hear him giggling. He might be grown now, but he will, in some ways, always be the awkward young teenager who would trip over his long limbs or who broke a million different hand terminals in a million different ways.

She looks at him now, and she’s shocked by how...well...he turned out. Chrisjen would like to thank herself for his progression from lanky kid to handsome man, but she knows she had very little to do with it.

Chrisjen is perched on the edge of her desk and finds herself practically purring to him. “Come over. I have some wisdom to impart.”

Sadavir raises an eyebrow, but he does as he’s told. He stands right in front of her, looking down at her with a goofy, drunken smile on his face.

Chrisjen tries to look as serious as humanly possible. “If some other man’s wife invites you to get rollickingly drunk with her, you should probably decline.” She lets him sit with that. He begins to back away. She grabs him by the shirt, pulling him close. “But my husband is Arjun, and he clearly does not give a fuck what I’m up to, so--”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I am deadly serious, Sadavir. Besides, when are we going to make it?”

“What?”

“You’ve had a crush on me since you got here. You’re a handsome young man. I’m a good looking, perhaps older, woman. We’re the talk of half the UN--”

“I don’t think that’s true--”

“Well, maybe the men don’t talk about it--”

“I don’t think anyone talks about it. Respectfully, ma’am, I should go--” Sadavir tries to pull away, but she just tightens her grip on his shirt.

“Please don’t go.” Chrisjen knows how desperate she sounds, and she doesn’t care. She pulls him down to her level and kisses him, both tasting of whiskey. 

Chrisjen expects Sadavir to break away and skitter out of her office, out of the UN, back to his apartment where he will wake up with one hell of a hangover--but he doesn’t. He kisses her back, hungrily. She grabs him by the back of his head, tussling his perfect hair, and he starts trailing kisses down her jaw, her neck, towards her chest. Chrisjen pushes him off of her.

“Do you not want to--”

“No, idiot.” Chrisjen begins to undress, starting with her earrings. “It’s all...getting in the way.” She’s too drunk for this, she knows.

“Let me help.” Sadavir goes behind her and with shaking, sweaty hands, undoes the clasp of her necklace.

* * *

Sadavir and Chrisjen sprawl on the floor of her office, Chrisjen’s hair all undone and Sadavir with smudges of her lipstick on his face, his neck and a new mark blossoming on one of his collarbones.

“Fuck,” she says. “Did we just? Are we...?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters. Somewhere in the room, a hand terminal goes off.

“That isn’t mine.”

“It’s mine. Jules-Pierre’s ringtone.” Sadavir sits up, groaning. They’re not young anymore.

“Oh. Shit. Monsieur Mao would have to interrupt.” Chrisjen bites her lip.

Sadavir looks blearily in the direction of his hand terminal. Instead of rising to answer it, he lies back down next to Chrisjen. “He can wait till morning.”

“What, are we just going to lie on the floor of my fucking office all night?” Chrisjen snorts.

“I could think of worse ideas.” He rests his chin on her chest and looks at her with sadder, wiser eyes.

“When are we going to have good timing?” Chrisjen says quietly, mostly to herself.

But Sadavir answers her. “Probably never. That’s what makes it fun.”

“You and I have a very different definition of fun, Sadavir.”

* * *

The two get dressed in silence, and Sadavir gets Chrisjen back home to her empty apartment. He even holds her hair after she rushes to the toilet to throw up all the whiskey she drank.

Chrisjen has a vague memory of him making sure she won’t die in her sleep before tucking her into bed, kissing her on the forehead and leaving her be.

The next morning, he indicates nothing happened. And to her, nothing did happen. She has no memory of the night. It’s not that it was unsatisfying--it’s just the fault of the effects of alcohol on the mind.

But there’s always something lingering between them, some charge when the two glance at each other and there’s a real bite when they argue. Chrisjen occasionally has dreams of that night, but she passes it off with the other dreams she’s had about Sadavir. Just the recesses of her mind playing tricks.

* * *

Sadavir and Chrisjen had begun the evening arguing about his involvement with Jules-Pierre Mao, how fucking useless Esteban was (her words) and how Earth, Mars and the OPA were almost certainly going to come to blows sooner or later.

Somehow, it had gotten personal. She yelled a little too loud, they’d both had a little too much to drink, and he seemed more tired than usual. Something was bothering him. Something with Mao. And Chrisjen had just let that Belter prisoner die. Or at least that’s how Sadavir had framed it.

But as they hold each other on the floor of Chrisjen’s office, neither of them really cares how it started. Sadavir is nestled against Chrisjen’s chest, and Chrisjen is holding on to him for dear life. She presses a kiss to his furrowed brow as he sleeps and marvels at the fact that he still cares years later.

Chrisjen knows that she cared the entire time too. She tries to tell the future again, as she did all those years ago when this affair started, wondering whether or not this will all have a happy ending.

Something in her brain shuts that impulse down. _Enjoy the moment now, Chrisjen_ , a voice deep inside her says. _Enjoy the moment now_.

**Author's Note:**

> There's math involved in this, even if I made the timeline wonky. Here it is:
> 
> Charanpal was in his late teens/early twenties when he died, Sadavir is fifteen-ish years younger than Chrisjen, they probably met when he was like 18? And Chrisjen, by that logic, would be in her early thirties when they met, and she probably had Charanpal when she was in her twenties? So Charanpal died when she was in her early forties, Sadavir would’ve been in his late twenties/early thirties. I’m guessing the above happens pre-Jodie, because his kid is at most 15 in the show, and Sadavir is at most 50-52 during the show. (I have thought TOO much about the math here, folks.)


End file.
